Broken but not Unfixable {Ikaia+Kirito}

[Knuckles]

[googlefont="Jim Nightshade:400"]

Ikaia Miristioma

Seventeen | Male | District 11

The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonight
Maybe it can stop tomorrow from stealing all my time

His heart races inside his chest pounding against the bone inside begging for an escape. Sweat pours from his brow as deformed hands wrap around the tools. Digging. Plowing. Harvesting. Working his life away just like he always wanted to. Forgotten in the trail of reality as his twin brother, Kirito runs free. How long had it been since the twins spoke to one another without the harsh, cruel words? It was his fault. Watching his brother march this through the games destroying people while Ikaia prayed for his brother's safe return, yet his safe return came with a price. Kirito was gone replaced by a new being. But who wouldn't change after fighting in a living hell?

His hair plastered against the back of his neck. It had grown quite shaggy over the last few months because cutting it felt like something only a coward would do. Ikaia wanted to speak words of wisdom. He wanted to hold his brother, to cuddle against him like they had done so many times growing up, but it was all gone. The life he once knew died when Kirito was crowned victor of the games. It was all gone. All shattered like a broken mirror, yet piece by piece Ikaia allowed himself to come to terms with it. Kirito was his own person, and he could love whoever he wanted, but it would never replace the gaping hole growing inside Ikaia's heart.

Tears swam down his eyes as he walked away from the fields for a small break placing his tools in the shed. It had been too long. Far too long. He wanted to talk to his brother. He wanted to hold him. To embrace him in a hug and never let go, but even touching him felt foreign like it never existed. A love that was once shared means nothing now. It's all gone. Every single memory that he once shared. His entire life crashed downward, but at least his brother was still alive. Many other families lost people during his games. Families were angry that Kirito had returned home, but that was all life became. Nobody cared. Nobody ever did anything. All that Ikaia had left was himself.

Dead grass crunched beneath his feet. Step by step his head swam with thoughts. Memories of his old life. Ikaia longed for his life to return to the old days, but he knew it was impossible. Every breath. Every second. All of it had changed, but one thing remained true inside his heart as he remembered the words he wrote so long ago. Ikaia would always love Kirito no matter what. Family has a bond that's formed, and a bond between twins held stronger than any bond he ever knew. Sighing to himself, he raised a hand wiping away his tears as he headed back to the shack of a house. Maybe Ikaia would go see Kirito in the victor's village one day, but for now it was best if he was left alone.

His stomach twisted as his eyes rested on his house. A place he called home because it was his home. It wasn't something created by the Capitol in order to serve as a constant reminder about what had happened, yet it was a roof over his head. Shelter in the midst of the storms. In his eyes his world was perfect. The door opened easily as he pressed against it, and on the counter exactly where he had left it was his masterpiece he was slowly creating for his brother. One to tell him he's sorry. One that would change his entire world forever. Perhaps it was a way for the twins to at least speak to each other once more. Maybe it would even draw them back together. Not as lovers, but as brothers.

Carefully removing it from the counter, he went to his room. It was in this room that he spent many days cuddled against his twin telling stories about while they distracted themselves from the constant rumble in their stomach. Many nights the twins went to sleep hungry, and now Ikaia was the only one who could ever understand it. Kirito had food shoved to him left and right. He could buy every pastry in the district, but whatever he had done with it was his own business. Ikaia didn't need the help of his brother to survive. He didn't need the gentle healer beside him as they journeyed through life together. No. Ikaia could survive on his own, but a part of him was always missing.

Removing the old sheet from the bed, he carefully wrapped the picture like a present. Soon Kirito would journey to the Capitol. He would return to the hell, but this time he was guaranteed to return alive, and Ikaia wanted his brother to know that he wasn't alone. That he would stand beside him every step of the way. Ikaia wanted to help him. He wanted to be with him. He wanted to stand beside him. He wanted the world to know that they were twins, yet it would never seem that way. Ikaia would always be a step behind his brother. He wasn't a king, but he wasn't a peasant either. Once the picture was carefully wrapped, Ikaia plopped down on the bed. Hanging his head in shame, silent sobs ricocheted throughout his entire body as he prayed Kirito would forgive him.

Trying to mend the relationship <33

[Arrows]

kirito

victor of the 70th hunger games

Fear, it was a very odd emotion. It was capable of producing mass sensations of uncertainty while also creating strong tidal waves of strength. Ever since he was reaped Kirito had been living beneath a cloak of fear. Every step he took and every move he mad was one of uncertainty, but even then his motions were backed by strength. Kill or be killed was something someone could never just forget. Even when you emerge from the dark clutches of an arena you never really leave. Its darkness stays locked upon you like a gruesome scar that can never be removed. The eyes of the Capitol and of Panem never stop turning and looking. Once you are a Capitol's tribute you are always a Capitol's tribute. Even in victory there was no way to break free of the poison touch of death. As a victor death became you and you became death. 

Even with the shifting breeze of autumn running like rabbits through the crops sending songs of mocking jays high through the air Kirito could still hear the wails of banshees over the broken bluffs of the after life. Although Kirito now walked down a beaten path in District Eleven underneath an unreachable sun he still felt the drops of rain clutching to his body. Just up ahead of him a group of workers waved and Kirito returned the favor as he spotted Olivia sitting among them. They were just ghosts now with one purpose, to haunt him. They were his to carry and his alone, even if the world left them to be forgotten he would never forget. They were essential to him just as the oxygen in the air was to his lunges.

A distant train whistle sent its piercing tone through the working District as Kirito stopped in his tracks for a moment and looked off to the horizon where the whistle rang out from.  Today the train was simply whizzing away with food supplies to the Capitol, but in a few days it would be two new tributes with him and Katelyn as well. Although safe from the burden of Reapings himself Kirito still felt their vicious claws stifling through his bones. Kirito had a large family and he had seen plain and simple what the games could do to a Victor's family. No one was ever safe from snow, especially not Kirito. 

Kirito's chest let out a sodden sigh as he turned his back towards the visions of violence and continued his trek. Within his own shadow Rhyme walked beside him with a simple smile on her face. Off to the left in a large grove of crimson kissed Apple Trees Kirito could see Key smiling with a bottle in her hand. Above her reading in the gentle breeze was even Wyatt who too had not vanished. Each of them were common sights for Kirito now. Their presence was never lacking but in a way it had become a comfort. When the ice of Kirito's own brother's shoulder had been pressed against his shatter soul they were all Kirito had left to turn to. Even now as Kirito swiftly approached his old home he may be greeted by grievances once again. 

The tinge of frost left Kirito's chest as he made the slight right bend into the small neighborhood. All around him were small shacks nearly caved in so caked with dirt that Kirito could almost believe it was their original color. Excited hollers and ecstatic greetings welcomed Kirito as he walked down the now rocky road. Old neighbors who had spent months wondering what had become of the young victor now finally got to seem him as each of the young children's hug left another spot of dirt on Kirito's fine scarlet shirt. Even though these people were the very bottom of the chain here in Eleven they were still the kindest people a person could beg to find. They were his people, he would always be one of them even with a golden crown waiting for him back in the Victor's Village.

As the crowd eventually dispersed and Kirito finished checking to ensure that all the people were healthy as they could be he continued walking down the battered village. High in the sky Imp hooted as she dove when Kirito's original home finally loomed as slanted as ever over the horizon. Although Imp had never lived here Kirito had taken her here a few times. To Kirito this place was more of a memorial to remember the memories and the struggles of before the climax. To Ikaia this place was still his home, and even now as Kirito grew ever closer he could spot the dim fire light twinkling through the rusty windows.

Imp's tender sharpened claws latched themselves gently onto Kirito's right shoulder as his feet stopped before the nearly broken door. Kirito felt shame filling up within his body at the thought of how he didn't feel like he could simply enter anymore. However any bits of emotions he felt were cast aside when he laid one of his replaced ears against the thin steel. From deep within the heart of the shack a shallow sob rung out through the air and Kirito didn't hesitate to push it open and quickly make his way over to his brother who he found crying on top of what appeared to be a slim wrapped gift.

Cautiously Kirito let Imp flutter over to the nearby counter as he sat softly beside Ikaia and his arm fall onto his back. Softly Kirito let the feeling of Ikaia's dirt riddled shirt run beneath his hand has he rubbed his back in comfort. Almost naturally a gentle cooing sound flowed from Kirito's mouth just as it did when he tucked Rhyme into her final sleep. "Shh, shh," Kirito cooed as he continued to rub the broken boy's back. "It's alright now. I'm right here, there's no need to cry."

There is a Key to every gate and every exit,
yet every Key has its own cost.

table by anzie

[Knuckles]

I'M SO FAR DOWN, AWAY FROM THE SUN AGAIN

IKAIA MIRISTIOMA

A W A Y  F R O M  T H E  S U N  A G A I N .

It was almost impossible to know what happened as small gusts of wind howled throughout the shack. It might not seem like much to anyone, but to Ikaia it was home. It was his safe place every single night. A childhood of memories bounced through the place. A memory of a family held together tightly by love. A bond that every family shared, yet it felt broken now. Pa was dead. He was gone away for so long, and even in the calm of the night Ikaia could hear him telling him stories of how to find plants and what to do if anything ever happened. Instantly he wondered what happened to those days.

Why had it changed?

A river of tears flowed freely down his face forming a lake beneath him. Never once did Ikaia imagine life without Kirito by his side, and for a long few weeks that's all it was. Every waking second he felt alone and afraid. He was trapped within the darkness of his own mind. A storm raged inside of him, but a calm came over him when Kirito won the games. It was almost certain they would reunite and pick up life where it left off. Joy danced inside Ikaia, but it was quickly taken away the moment Kirito stepped off the train a different man. He wasn't the innocent healer anymore. That innocent healer left when Kirito made his first kill.

Tucking himself tightly into a ball, he sobbed against the covers of his bed. All he wanted was his old life back. He wanted his twin to stand by his side. He wanted to see Pa again. He wanted Ma to return to her normal life, yet nothing ever happened. It didn't make a difference that the place was old. That it was falling down. This old shack brought comfort to him. It took away his emotions. Cleared his mind. At least, that was what it used to do. Ikaia enjoyed returning home after a hard day of work to find Kirito and Ma waiting on him, but it wasn't there anymore.

His life felt ruined. The relationship between the twins was heated. Each time Ikaia saw Kirito all he wanted to do was turn the other direction and run away, but it wasn't out of anger. No, it was jealousy. Kirito returned home a star. Everyone noticed him. Everyone was paying attention to him, and for the longest time it felt like no matter what Ikaia did it wasn't enough to get the attention of his own family. Every direction he turned people were excited to see him because his name was lost. His own name was forgotten within the minds of those around. All that was left was Kirito.

The sound of the door opening didn't even faze him as he curled further into a ball on the old bed allowing the tears to fall freely. Ikaia never wanted Kirito to see him like this. He was always so strong. So brave. So courageous, but now he was a tiny boy again. A selfish kid throwing a tantrum. Yet it wasn't even that. Ikaia longed for a chance to speak to his brother like nothing was ever wrong. He wanted them to stand side by side. But as his tear stained eyes searched the room, he hid his face the moment Kirito walked inside.

It wasn't much, but just feeling Kirito by his side changed everything. It turned the pain he was feeling into something else despite the hollow feeling lingering inside his chest. He tried stopping the tears, yet they never went. They fell faster mixing with the snot dripping from his nose leaving streaks in the dirt caked against his face. It wasn't until he felt Kirito's hand against his back he started calming down.

The feeling was something he couldn't describe, yet it overcame him quickly. Red faced, he lifted a hand to wipe away his tears, but before he could remove them all, more fell. Crying was for the weak, but many nights Ikaia stayed in front the screen sobbing, pleading, begging for his brother to return. Now that he's home, Ikaia couldn't imagine what it would feel like without him. The thought of him not being here haunts him, and knowing that in just a few short days he'll be alone again doesn't comfort him any.

"Shh, shh," His voice was quiet and reassuring as guilt raged throughout Ikaia's veins trapping him. "It's alright now. I'm right here, there's no need to cry." Oh how wrong Kirito was. Ikaia had every reason to cry. He ruined everything they had ever built. Every single thread they tied together was almost severed because of the way he reacted when Kirito returned. It wasn't the same anymore. Turning his red, splotchy, tear stained face towards his twin, he started crying again. Shame consumed him. It ate away at him tearing his insides apart. Each word caught in the back of his throat, yet finally he found a way to speak. "I'm sorry, Kirito. I'm so sorry. I..I messed up. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Please forgive me. Please.

table by elegant

859 words